


Catching Sunbeams

by fauxpas



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Jedi, Lightsabers, Post-Order 66, the empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxpas/pseuds/fauxpas
Summary: Seventeen years after the Empire takes control of the galaxy, the crew of the Ghost is tasked with finding and teaming up with the crew of the Stinger Mantis. Together, will they race against the Empire's new plot to destroy the rebellion and finally have complete control of the galaxy.
Relationships: BD-1 & Cal Kestis, C1-10P | Chopper & Hera Syndulla, Cal Kestis/Merrin, Cere Junda & Cal Kestis, Ezra Bridger & Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Kanan Jarrus & Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus & Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 24
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I mixed up my dates in the Star Wars timeline! I went through and fixed it up. Sorry for the confusion!

“The first part of your mission is to locate and recruit the crew of the _Stinger Mantis_. They are a small group with a known history of rebel actions that have been giving the Empire infrequent trouble over the years. They were highly visible during their first few months of activity before retreating from the Empire’s focus some twelve years ago. We believe they may be open to either partnering with the _Ghost_ for the primary goal of this mission or hopefully joining the rebellion more permanently,” Commander Sato briefed the crew of the _Ghost_.

“What do you mean by infrequent trouble?” Ezra asked quickly, skeptical about this new mission being given to them by the commander of their rebel cell. After all, infrequent trouble to the Empire over a period of years didn’t seem that impressive to the padawan and his less than a year with the _Ghost_.

“Their biggest claim to fame is the destruction of an Imperial training facility on the Outer Rim planet of Nur. It’s through their actions that the Empire abandoned their outpost on that planet about twelve years ago,” Sato answered. “Our information also places them on Kashyyyk a number of times, and are well known allies to the Wookies that are still on Kashyyyk.”

“Kashyyyk is heavily occupied by the Empire, getting near their air space will be tricky,” Hera muttered to herself, already working out the logistics of getting the _Ghost_ past the expected Imperial blockade.

“There is no need. Luckily, the _Stinger Mantis_ was last reported in the Fermic System of the Outer Rim territories. Our informants have them docked in the factory city of Sinaea for the last two weeks,” Commander Sato added. “We believe we have enough evidence of the _Stinger Mantis_ ’ previous history to support that they are going to be there for a while - given that nothing spooks them into leaving early.

“We have the names of three of the crew, although there is a fourth one. Their captain, Cere Junda. The pilot, Greez Dritus. And young man by the name Kestis.”

“Junda?” Kanan asked, perking up at the new piece of information. While his vacant eyes were hidden by his mask, the rest of his person seemed to light up at the name.

“You know her Kanan?” Ezra inquired, curious at his master’s sudden interest in one of the rebels they were going to be sent to engage.

“Sort of; I’ve never met her myself. Cere Junda is a Jedi Master. I remember hearing about her in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant during the Clone Wars.”

“We don’t have much information on the rest of the crew, but we do know that Greez Dritus is a ‘retired’ gambler with some bad history with the Haxion Brood. How they’ve kept themselves largely out of Imperial records is unknown. Whether they are just that good at staying out of the Empire’s sights or have corrupted the Empire’s data on them remains to be seen,” Sato continued, pulling up a holo image of the _Stinger Mantis_ and her crew. It depicted a crew of four in the middle of a discussion outside a large, yacht-style spacecraft. Unfortunately the quality of the image was poor, so getting the details about their physical appearances was difficult. “We’ll send this image of the Stinger Mantis crew to the _Ghost_ and Chopper. Unfortunately, it’s the best one we have.

“Now, the primary part of this mission is the reason we’re initiating contact with the _Stinger Mantis_ and her crew in the first place. You will be finding and sneaking into the Temple of the Shieae Alshams, on the planet Jaff. This is an outer, Midrim planet, located in this quadrant here,” Sato gestured to the pulled up holo map that sat between all present members. “The Empire has been investigating this planet because of rumors of an ancient power source or weapon rumored to be hidden in said temple. They’ve displaced the citizens that live anywhere near the excavation sites, and we’ll be sending the _Ghost_ and hopefully the _Stinger_ _Mantis_ to disrupt their plans and make it so that the Empire can not get their hands on whatever it is they’re looking for.

"The reason we want you to find and partner with the crew of the _Stinger Mantis_ is because of their expertise in trawling through ruins, tombs, and the like. This crew has a more prominent background in plundering ancient tombs and robbing various artifacts from black market auctions.”

“Wait. You want us to partner with known tomb raiders? How will this help the rebellion?” Ezra asked, voicing the confusion and concern coming from most of the crew.

“As I said, the Empire has displaced thousands of inhabitants across Jaff. Other rebel crews have been tasked with retrieving the displaced, but if there is any hope of returning them to their homes, we need to get the Empire out. And what better way, than to remove the reason for the Empire’s intense focus?” Commander Sato finished.

“I’ll prep the _Ghost_ so that she’ll be ready for the mission,” Hera said, heading out of the briefing room. “Chopper, help me get the ship ready.”

\-----------

The _Ghost_ landed on an open docking port in the major city of Sinaea. The crew were getting frustrated with their lack of success in finding the Stinger Mantis and her crew. They had tried two previous docking ports, and were starting to get frustrated. Sinaea was much larger than they had first thought it would be.

The large amount of industrial facilities that covered the planet made it a very good hiding place for a small crew like the _Stinger Mantis_. Factories reached high into the smog layered sky, and the sunlight reaching the ground level of the streets was a dim, filthy brown. Trash lined the gutters and alleyways, but despite the poor living conditions, there was a sizable population living on the surface of Fermic and going about their day.

“Kanan and I will stay with the ship,” Hera directed. “I suggest the rest of you pair up and start looking around for the Stinger Mantis and her crew.”

After a brief debate on who went with who, Ezra and Zeb headed south and Sabine and Chopper headed north along the public docking platforms.

\-----------

Beep beep booop. BD-1 chirped, nudging the clock propped on the cluttered shelf. Various droid bits lined the shelf in a chaotic sort of organization. Somehow the small, bipedal droid hadn’t knocked anything off the shelf it perched on.

“Thanks buddy,” Cal responded, welding goggles still over his eyes. “I just want to finish up with this hard drive. I’ll be done in a sec. 9-J, reduce altitude by three inches and hold this piece right here.” He turned his small soldering tool back on, and the LED light coming from the salvaged seeker droid lowered to give Cal the light he needed. Three inches. ID9-J repeated to Cal, its green-blue photoreceptor lens focusing on the work the man was doing while holding its light steady.

 _Bwooo boop tweee_. BD-1 trilled, climbing up Cal’s shoulder after 30 minutes of continued work.

“Aaaaand,” Cal trailed on, connecting two wires to the hard drive and welding them in place. “Done!” Cal pushed his welding goggles up to his forehead which pushed his oil darkened hair back. He gave BD-1 a pat on its head, and chuckled when ID9-J perched itself on his other shoulder and gave a content whirl of one of its internal servos.

“I’m running out of real estate with the both of you,” Cal muttered to the two small droids perched on his shoulders while getting up from his work bench. He stretched the stiffness out of back and shoulders, trusting the droids to keep their balance and not fall. “I should not sit like that as long as I do. I’m gonna have a back like Greez sooner rather than later.”

BD-1 chittered at the joke, and the sentiment was echoed in ID9-J. Both droids poking fun at their human while he loosened his stiff muscles out.

They attached themselves to a thick belt that ran across Cal’s shoulder when the Jedi tossed his poncho over his work clothes. Their current employer did not take well to treating droids as anything other than tools to be used, so keeping the two small droids out of sight led to the least amount of stress for Cal.

“Hey Bolgii, I finished up that hard drive. I’ll get it programmed and put into the service droid in the morning and send it back to its owner.”

“Good to hear it Caldaar,” Bolgii, his temporary boss for this particular droid shop, said. “But you worked a half hour over your agreed upon time, and that costs me more credits.”

“I can come in a half hour later to balance it out?”

“You agreed to your hours so I would pay you under the table. What you do in your free time is your time spent, not mine.”

Cal ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Fine, yeah. Don’t worry about the extra time I spent putting together that drive from scratch. I’ll be here at my usual time tomorrow.”

“Good to know we’re on the same page boy,” Bolgii ended the conversation with an undertone of warning.

Cal gave him a final nod of acquiesce, and attached his respirator mask over his nose and lower face and pulled up his hood. While Fermic was an Outer Rim system and wasn’t directly under the Empire’s thumb, it would not do him any good to get complacent. The Empire still came to Fermic occasionally for supplies, and Cal did not want to draw attention to himself. There was only so much security a fake ID and a different hair color could give him, so he walked within the crowds and kept largely to himself.

A quiet whirl of processors and fans came from behind him, and Cal felt ID9-J start to crawl out from under his poncho.

“Did you want to keep an eye out 9-J?”

_Keep an eye out._

“Go for it buddy. Just don’t draw attention to yourself.”

ID9-J slipped out from Cal’s poncho and drifted through the crowd. The small seeker droid kept to the shadows, using outside stalls and exterior signs to hide its ascent above the city’s populace. 9-J tracked Cal, as well as scanning the surroundings for any potential threats to its human. With the possibility of Empire troopers or muggers wandering the major streets, 9-J would warn Cal and BD-1 should they need to slip into an alley for a detour back to the Mantis.

\-----------

It had been about two hours of sneaking through the public docks and ship hangars before Sabine and Chopper found a promising lead. A young dock hand mentioned seeing a ship that matched the general description of the _Stinger Mantis_ , about two and a half weeks ago.

“Thank you, for helping us find our friends,” Sabine lied to the dock hand. “We got turned around with how big the city is.”

She slipped a five credit piece to the teen, and the two headed to a stretch of rentable, private ship hangars three levels above the ground.

 _Beep beep, bzuuuurrt!_ Chopper ranted, waving his arms around in frustration.

“It is a good way to hide though. I mean, it’s not the first place any of us thought to look.”

_Bwoooo beep._

“Spectre-5 to Spectre-4 and Spectre-6, we have a lead on the whereabouts of our target. Hangar four-beta-eleven-fifteen. We’re heading there to run reconnaissance; standby for backup.”

“Roger that Spectre-5. We’re on our way,” Zeb’s voice carried over their comms.

Sabine and Chopper continued traversing along the ground level of the docking port, looking for the next lift to bring them to the higher bays. A task made relatively easily when a pair of double doors slid open up a hundred feet ahead of them and released a small group of people onto the ground floor’s docks. They sped up their pace so that they could make it to the lift before the doors shut on them.

 _Docking level designation please._ A droid asked, stationed at the lift’s control panel. It resembled the many shuttle pilot droids they had come across over the years, with its humanoid top half and the bottom secured to the lift. The droid was visibly old, one of its ocular lenses duller than the other and rust starting to creep into some of the less active joints.

“Level four,” Sabine requested.

_Level four is out of this lift’s operational capacity. This lift only goes as high as level three._

“Level three then.”

 _Right away ma’am._ The lift operating droid agreed, pressing a few buttons on its work console and pushed up on the lever.

The lift shuddered into action and the hydraulics whined and stuttered as lift began to rise. It rose past the second floor level, and lurched to a stop without issue. As the lift settled, the double doors opened to the third level of the docking port. When Chopper and Sabine left the lift, the door promptly slid shut behind them, and the lift was already heading down to a lower level.

“Now to find a way to the fourth level,” Sabine muttered, scanning the docking level.

Level three had larger ships in it than the ground level. The support struts of the docking bay were vaulted higher, allowing for larger transport vessels to dock. Some ships were off-loading people, others materials for the factories and supplies for trade in the street shops. It was bustling in comparison to the lower level docks they had investigated earlier in the day. No one batted an eye at either of them as they moved through the people in search of a way up to the next level of the docking platforms.

“Let’s ask around,” Sabine offered. “See if we can find anything.”

Some quick asking around later, and they directed to gate nine, an entryway into the Level Three streets. They were going to have to find a way to the mid levels of the city outside of the docking station.

“The _Stinger Mantis_ sure knows how to pick a hiding place. I wouldn’t have thought that a factory city would have such strict, segregated city levels,” Sabine commented absently, as the pair scanned the streets of Level Three. The streets were bustling with the evening crowd commuting from work and buying food for their evening meals.

“We should have asked the lift droid how to get up to Level Four...”

 _Bweep boop boop!_ Chopper trilled, rolling towards an alley back near the docking bay they came from. Hidden by the shadows of the factory buildings and the waning sun, was an enclosed metal stairwell that led above and below their current level of the city. A locked gate blocked their entrance, the small keypad’s lights muted to conserve power.

“Good find,” Sabine praised, walking up to the keypad so they could get past the security gate.

Chopper stood guard, keeping an eye and ear out for anyone that may catch them in the act of breaking into the service stairwell. The astromech was ready to charge at a snooper's shins and shock them into submission. Luckily, they weren’t noticed in the few minutes it took for Sabine to crack the security protocols installed in the stairwell keypad.

“Ready Chopper?”

_Bzoooo-p!_

The stairs seemed to go forever, and while there were exit platforms at regular intervals, it was a service stairwell they were using. Fifteen flights of stairs later, they reached the fourth level of Sinaea.

Chopper squaked at the number of stairs they had to climb to reach the fourth level.

“Good thing we don’t have to hack our way out,” Sabine murmured, easily opening the door with a large 4 painted on it.

The pair slipped into the main street of Sinaea’s fourth level, and headed towards the docking area. The diminished smog was immediately noticeable, giving their current level a cleaner feel. Residents of various races traversed the street, allowing the two rebels to blend in smoothly.

It was by luck that the docking yard they were looking for only took another fifteen minutes to find. Hangar four-beta-eleven-fifteen was a part of a stretch of private bays, which allowed for less public access to anything stored within. A good place for a ship and crew looking to keep off possible Imperial radars.

The only problem was, now that they found it, how were they going to initiate contact with the crew?

\------------

Merrin scowled under her respirator mask as she stalked through the busy streets of Sinaea’s fourth level. This planet was filthy, the air tainted with filth and greed. She’d spent the last two weeks working in a factory that refined rough durasteel so it could be used industrially, and the smell of fire and slag clung to her nose. Out of all the odd jobs she’d picked up since leaving Dathomir over a decade ago, this was one of her least favorite.

When she approached doors to the hangar her and her crew were staying in, Merrin paused. A ripple in the subtle force magick of the planet let her know that she was being watched. She didn’t sense any hostility though, which was odd given her history with the Mantis.

A quick look around didn’t show anything out of the ordinary, so she turned back to open the doors to the docking bay.

\-----------

Chopper and Sabine hid behind some crates stacked in front of a nearby alley, watching the entrance of hangar four-beta-eleven-fifteen.

“Okay, we need a plan before we go any further. We found the hangar,” Sabine said, making a brief gesture towards the entryway that hid the _Stinger Mantis_ from view.

_Twee-vwoop vruuud._

“I don’t see that endearing us to the crew of the _Stinger Mantis_.”

_Beeeeee vzzuuur boop._

“Hold on,” Sabine interrupted, her eyes following a pale woman in dark clothes walking up to the entrance of hangar four-beta-eleven-fifteen. Something about her presence felt different than the other people utilizing the main road. Her posture subtly giving off a presense of being more than just an ordinary citizen.

The pair watched the woman stop at the doors, and look around. She took a long look at each alley and possible hiding place. Her eyes landed on their alley, and Chopper and Sabine pushed themselves against the wall.

“Shit,” Sabine whispered.

The pale woman’s attention moved on, checking the rest of the surrounding area before turning her back to the two rebels hiding in the shadows. She punched in the codes to open the door, and slipped inside.

Sabine and Chopper waited another five minutes before pulling themselves from the shadows that blanketed the alley.

“We may need a better plan,” Sabine started, observing the docking bay’s doors. “They’ve done a good job of --”

One of the crates hiding them from the main road fell, the sound of duraplast and metal crashing into the ground drawing their attention from their discussion quickly. A small seeker droid hovered before the exit of the alley, its photoreceptor lens focusing on them and its tentacle-like limbs crackling threateningly with electricity. The sound of a blaster being leveled at Sabine’s head brought the rebels’ attention to behind them as well.

A hooded man in a respirator mask covering the lower half of his face stood behind them, blaster now pointed at Sabine’s face as the Mandalorian turned to face the new threat that snuck up on them while Chopper kept most of his attention on the black and blue seeker droid. The unknown droid whistled threateningly as it drifted closer to Chopper, the red glow of its photoreceptor adding to the ominous atmosphere that had enveloped the alley.

“Give me a reason not to shoot you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a full-blown adventure with these two crews teaming up against the Empire. Hell, I need more JFO crossing into other Star Wars franchises. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish crying over the Clone Wars finale.
> 
> This fic takes place sometime during season 3 of Rebels. I was really torn between putting this fic before or after Kanan losing his sight, and decided to go with after.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta, so hit me up if something is weird. I've re-read this so much that it's become a blur.

It was clear to Cal that the bounty hunter and droid hiding in the alley across the street from the _Mantis_ were there in the hopes of collecting the bounty on his family. The _Mantis_ crew had been careful, even going so far as to blacken Cal and Merrin’s hair, hide Merrin’s facial markings using makeup, use a very expensive, custom hologram technology to hide Cere’s overall appearance, and Greez utilized a voice modulator tucked into his flight suit. Each member of the crew had even taken on false names and had the necessary paperwork to pass themselves off as those aliases. How had they been found in only a couple of weeks on Fermic when they hadn’t had any run ins in over eight months?

Cal stashed his groceries behind a bundle of barrels in the shadows of an adjacent alley. If he moved carefully and took the two bounty hunters out quickly, the food wouldn’t be ruined. He quickly went over what his crew would have to do to wrap up their business on Fermic and leave. It’d take a day at most, but if these were the only two hunters to find them so far, they may be able to slip past the clutches of the Empire or Haxion Brood - whoever had hired these two - and vanish into the stars again. Hopefully, it was just the two.

Cal sent ID9-J over the Mandalorian and astromech, and waited for the droid to get into position. The small seeker droid would draw their attention from behind them, giving him a better chance to ambush the hunters and for BD-1 to run ahead and get help. 

With ID9-J hovering above the crates, Cal carefully used the Force to knock the highest crate off its stack. The crate crashed onto the ground, the contents rattling around creating a jarring sound that reverberated within the alley. As ID9-J kept their attention with its crackling electro-shock prods in an obvious threat display, Cal used every bit of stealth he had learned during his time training under Master Tapal and hiding from the Empire and the Brood to sneak up behind them. He silently pulled his blaster out of its holster, and leveled it at the woman. Cal would discern the droid’s threat level after he took care of her. 

“Give me a reason not to shoot you,” Cal hissed from behind the colorful Mandalorian. ID9-J would keep an eye on the astromech. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t just kill her outright. This wasn’t his first bounty hunter encounter, and he had a long history of being chased by them. However, something in the back of his mind told him to give the pair a chance. Or at least a second to say something incriminating to prove his hard-earned instincts correct. 

The Mandalorian’s hands went straight to her blasters at his threat, and as she turned to face Cal, the astromech went into action. The old C1 unit brandished its own electro-shock prod, and charged at Cal.

ID9-J immediately chased after the astromech, going so far as to shut off its antigravity systems and let physics bring it to its target faster. It used its forward momentum and collided with the opposing droid’s head unit and jammed its three shock prods into the astromech. Electricity surged through the C1 unit, forcing it to shut down to avoid overloading its systems. ID9-J perched on the downed droid, guarding its fallen adversary while it watched its human deal with the other. 

(In the chaos, BD-1 sprinted out of the alley and across the street to the _Mantis_ ’ hangar to warn the rest of the crew, and prepare backup in case Cal needed the help. It made the dash without any hindrance from the bounty hunter or her droid, and darted between the legs of the many commuters. A quick plug-in with the scomp port, and BD-1 was rushing into the hangar.)

“Woah, woah! We don’t mean any harm!” The Mandalorian exclaimed, raising her empty hands up and away from her blasters. “You're with the _Stinger Mantis_ , right? We have a…”

Cal snorted. He didn’t believe a word out of the woman’s mouth. No bounty hunter ever found them by accident, and no bounty hunter actively sought him and his crew out just for the fun of it. 

“Let’s call it a job proposition.”

“Seriously?” Cal asked, disbelief saturated his tone. He kept his blaster aimed just below her helmet, not lowering his guard in spite of the bounty hunter’s supposed harmless intent and job offer. “You’re creeping around in back alleys in the hopes of offering my crew a job?”

“Yes. We’ve been sent by the rebellion to aid in a mission against the Empire,” the woman hissed under her breath. 

“And how do we know that you aren’t just an elaborate trap sent to us by the Empire?” Cere’s voice carried over the tense situation, her blaster pointed at the bounty hunter’s unarmored stomach. BD-1 was perched on her shoulder, its ocular lenses scanning the Mandalorian and downed C1 astromech. 

“I can explain everything if we go somewhere private.”

“This place is private enough,” Merrin answered, the green glow of her magick fading from her eyes. “There is no one that can see us or hear you die if you do not give us a reason to let you live.” 

The two women stood opposite of Cal, boxing in the threat. It was times like these that Cal and Cere were grateful for Merrin’s magick. They were cloaked visually and audibly from any outside interference, allowing them to take care of this threat to their family without drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. The crew of the _Mantis_ were posing as a group of nomadic people looking for quick, short-term jobs to keep them on their travels, and the general populace of Sinaea did not need to know that they were more than what they made themselves out to be. 

The bounty hunter didn’t seem to believe that they were in an appropriately private space, and the present crew of the _Mantis_ didn’t blame her. Merrin’s magick was powerful, and a rare sight after the slaughter of the Nightsisters during the Clone Wars. 

“Look, I don’t really have anything on me that I can use to prove I’m not a threat,” the Mandalorian started. “You’ve shut down Chopper, so unless you let me turn him back on -”

“Not happening,” Cal growled from behind his mask. 

“Will you let me call my captain then? It’s just a regular, plain communicator in my pocket.”

Her response was twin arched eyebrows of skepticism from Cere and Merrin and a continued glare from Cal. No one from the _Mantis_ crew seemed to be open to having the bounty hunter call for backup. That would mean leaving Fermic immediately and a high chance for chaos during their escape. Not a good way to keep a low profile. 

“Or maybe… someone who’s a bit more in-tune to the more delicate forces that reside in the universe?”

“Cere,” Cal trailed off, indirectly asking the older woman if she picked up on the not-so-subtle implication. Contacting an unknown Force user could either be a great boon or terrible disaster. He kept his eyes and blaster trained on the Mandalorian, but knew that Cere would take the lead on this one. Cal did not want to get his hopes up, so he crushed them quickly and kept his focus on the reality of here and now. 

“Call your ship. We’ll see what your companions have to say,” Cere ordered.

“Okay,” the Mandalorian agreed, slowly reaching for her communicator. The bounty hunter kept her actions slow and deliberate, trying not to spook the two _Mantis_ crew members holding her at gunpoint into shooting her. “Spectre-1, Spectre-2. I’ve made contact with the _Stinger Mantis_ , but I’ve had a bit of a mishap.”

 _“What do you mean Spectre-5?”_ Came a man’s voice. The tone was strong and clipped, brokering no room for delay. 

“Kanan, they think we’re here to turn them over to the Empire.”

“May I?” Cere whispered, holding out her hand for the communicator.

The Mandalorian hesitated for a second before handing the device over to the older woman.

“This is Cere Junda of the _Stinger Mantis_. Who am I speaking to?”

_“Shi---. Master Junda, we mean you and your crew no harm. We’ve been sent by the rebellion in the hopes that your crew would be willing to partner with ours briefly for a mission. Is there any way we can meet in person to go over the details?”_

Cere’s eyes widen at the title addressed to her by the man on the other end of the commlink. Tension seemed to build in _Mantis_ crew. The only people that should know of Cere’s former designation were threats. 

“You have five seconds to explain to me how you know my former title before we kill your colleague and leave,” Cere hissed, a harsh glare pointed at their hostage.

_“We are not with the Empire! My name is Kanan Jarrus; I’m a Jedi. My master was Depa Billaba. She sacrificed herself at the end of the Clone Wars so that I could live.”_

“Master Billaba did not have a padawan by the name Jarrus.”

 _“I,”_ the man, Kanan, paused. The sound of a heavy sigh filtered through the comm. _“I changed my name after the purge. The Empire was looking for Jedi, and, in order to disappear, I changed my name. My birth name is Caleb Dume.”_

Cere paused in thought. The names aligned from what she remembered, and his tone of voice reflected long-lived guilt and anguish. It was a tone she’d heard in Cal when they first met, when the red headed padawan had struggled to talk about his past. She’d heard the tone in survivors who wished they could have done more, when they had already done all that they could. She sensed no deception in Kanan Jarrus. 

“Very well. How small is your ship?”

“If we’re careful, we should be able to squeeze in with the _Stinger Mantis_ ,” a new, female voice carried over the line. 

“Is this Captain Syndulla?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“We will meet you in our hangar shortly then. Do not draw attention to yourselves, am I clear?”

“Crystal.” 

“What is your name, Mandalorian?” Cere asked, handing the commlink back to her.

“Sabine Wren,” the newly dubbed Sabine answered. “And that,” she said gesturing to the still downed droid being guarded by ID9-J. “Is Chopper. Can I turn him on now, or would you rather carry him yourself?” 

Cal withdrew his blaster, but he didn’t put it away just yet. They still didn’t know anything about Sabine and her group, and he was taking no chances. “9-J, you can get off Chopper.”

Sabine moved to Chopper quickly, muttering concerns and frustrations under her breath as she re-activated the astromech. Chopper came alive with a shriek of angered binary and swirling arms. 

“Easy, Chop. Easy. We’re okay,” Sabine reassured the droid. 

Chopper turned towards the _Mantis_ members surrounding them, and threw out a string of curses and threats that had BD-1 and ID9-J responding in kind. Cal could barely contain his laughter at all three over-protective droids. 

The tension seemed to melt off the _Mantis_ crew as they began to relax. Cal reluctantly put his blaster back in its holster, although he was ready to pull it back out at a moment’s notice. They didn’t survive together for over a decade without a level of caution in their actions. 

“9-J, go warn Greez that we’ll be having visitors soon,” Cal instructed the hovering droid.

 _We’ll be having visitors soon._ ID9-J parroted back to his human before flying over the street and the steep metal walls that blocked most of the _Stinger Mantis_ from public view. 

“I hope you can understand our need for caution,” Cere explained, not apologizing for their actions. It was caution that had kept her crew - her family - alive during the Imperial rule of the galaxy; she would not apologize for it. It didn’t matter that Fermic was an independent system from the Empire, the planet held no loyalty to the Rebellion either. Only profit. And inviting this new, unknown group into their tenuous sanctuary could lead to the _Mantis’_ downfall. 

“Of course,” Sabine agreed. “I’m going to contact the rest of our crew, and have them come here. It’s just two more,” she pulled out her communicator, keeping an eye on the still distrusting crew of the _Stinger Mantis_ . “This is Spectre-5. We’ve established contact with the _Stinger Mantis_ , and have been invited to their hangar for negotiations.”

A quick response came over the line. _“This is Spectre-6. We’ll be there soon.”_

“We’ll stagger our return to the hangar. It’ll minimize the attention we’d draw,” Cere instructed. “Cal, take the droids. Merrin and I will escort Sabine to the ship behind you. And set up a one-time guest entry code for the stragglers.”

“One sec,” Cal held up a quick hand to wait, and retreated deeper into the alley. He returned shortly with his satchel of groceries. As he reentered the group’s space, he turned to Chopper. “Sorry about the rough welcome. You cool with coming with me for a minute? I promise to keep 9-J off you.”

 _Whiiirrrrr boop pbzzzt._ Chopper responded, a mixed message of agreement and threat to Cal’s shins and knees if there was to be a repeat of earlier. 

BD-1 returned to Cal’s shoulder, and the young Jedi started to head back into the busy street. Chopper rolled behind him, and the three slipped into the crowded road. 

A few minutes later, a chirp came from Cere’s comm unit. _“Guest code is 310-14.”_

Sabine nodded, and activated her communicator. “Spectre-4, Spectre-6. Guest access to the hangar has been granted. Code is 310-14.”

_“Roger that Spectre-5. We’ll be there in fifteen.”_

A crackle over Sabine’s communicator came almost as soon as the first hung up. _“Spectre-1 and Spectre-2 preparing to land.”_

Cere led the trio, with Merrin bringing up the rear or their small group. They cut across the crowds, and Cere used her body to block the keypad for the hangar from Sabine’s eyes. The _Mantis_ crew didn’t trust Sabine, and Cere continued to take precautions. 

As the doors slid open, Chopper greeted the Mandalorian and rolled back to her side. The astromech informed her that Cal hadn’t done anything to damage or offend it while they were separated. 

Seconds later, the wind kicked up as the _Ghost_ began its final meters of descent, and the six outside looked up to see the small freighter craft carefully positioning itself without hitting the _Mantis_. 

“That’ll be Hera and Kanan,” Sabine said, answering the silence of the _Mantis_ crew. 

The _Ghost_ touched down in the hangar, taking up much of the remaining space. Luckily, it also blocked a lot of the _Mantis_ from the public’s eye whenever the hangar doors would open. When the _Ghost_ ’s boarding ramp descended, a green Twi’lek woman in a flight suit and a human man with a mask covering his eyes walked out. 

Chopper rolled over to the pair to greet them. It chittered about the disrespect of being attacked and how everything was taken care of so it was safe for Hera to come meet the new people. 

“Sounds like calling ahead would be a better choice in the future,” she joked, giving Chopper a reassuring pat on its head. 

“Being ambushed by our targets was totally a part of the plan,” called Sabine from her place among the _Mantis_ crew. Her tone was light and sarcastic, earning a smirk from the _Mantis_ members.

“I’ll go see if Greez needs any help,” Cal offered to Cere. “If not, I can hop in the refresher real quick. You know how he is about droid oil on the seats.” He added the joke before heading towards the _Mantis_. 

“You will tell me the instant you are out of the refresher Cal. I do not like the smell of molten slag on my person,” Merrin demanded. “If Greez accepts your help, I will be using it first.”

“Of course.”

“You guys certainly fight the Empire in style,” Hera complimented, looking the _Mantis_ over with a pilot’s eye. 

“The ship is Greez’s, and he’s been kind enough to take us in,” Cere agreed. “It’s become home over the years.”

“I know what you mean. The _Ghost_ is our home as well.”

They continued with simple pleasantries for a minute before Cal poked his head out of the entryway. “The refresher is yours first Merrin!” Cal called out. 

Merrin headed into the _Mantis_ quickly. She gave Cal a smile before heading into the back of the ship. Some muffled yelling could be heard from inside the ship from the yard, which helped lighten the still present tension between the two crews outside. 

The pleasantries continued for another ten minutes, waiting for the rest of the _Ghost_ crew to make it to the hangar. Merrin came back out after the first five minutes, clean and in clothes that didn’t look like they’d spent a week in a durasteel refinery. Her makeup was removed, her facial markings on display, and some of the pitch that colored her hair had been washed out. It was still nowhere near her natural platinum silver, but she felt better. 

After another five minutes, the sliding door into the hangar opened, revealing a human teenager and an older Lasat. They seemed a little roughed up, but overall, fine. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” Hera asked, her arms crossing over her chest. 

“We may have gotten a bit-” 

“This brat got us lost.”

With a roll of her eyes, Hera turned back to Cere and Merrin. “This is Ezra, Kanan’s… apprentice… and Zeb.”

“That’s a dangerous choice, taking on an apprentice in this day and age. Your craft isn’t something that is widely popular these days,” Cere commented, looking Ezra over with a critical eye. 

“But, aren’t you a Jedi too?” Ezra argued, defending himself and Kanan’s choice to train him.

“I am not a Jedi anymore. I cut myself from the Force soon after the purge.”

“You can do that? Cut yourself away from the Force?” Ezra asked. “Isn’t that like cutting off a limb?”

“It was a personal choice, one I feel is necessary,” Cere stated, crossing her arms and raising an unimpressed brow at the teen. “From what I understand, you’re all here to ask for our help, not interrogate me on my personal history.”

“Apologies,” Kanan said. “We’re still working on tact.” 

“S-sorry.”

“That’s fine; you’re still learning. Now, let’s head inside the _Mantis_ , and we’ll begin the negotiations for this job you mentioned earlier.” She motioned for the crew of the _Ghost_ to follow her into the _Mantis_. 

As they entered the ship, the smell of warm food filled their senses. The inside of the _Mantis_ was long and narrow, like how the outside suggested. To one side of the ship was a large holotable and the cockpit, and to the other, a communal living space and kitchen. Greez was bustling between the small kitchenette and lower living space, setting out a small buffet of snacks. 

“You know Cere, if I had known we were expecting company, I would have been able to put together a better spread. We’ll need more groceries tomorrow,” Greez complained as he brought food to the small table. “And you know that droids aren’t allowed on the table when there’s food. You’ll get your filthy droid feet and lasers all over it!” He shooed BD-1 off the table with the plate of food he was carrying. There was no real heat in the complaint or demands as he set up the space for entertaining. 

“Now grab some seat, and Merrin, drag Cal out from the back would you?” Greez requested. He picked up the chairs around their small kitchen table and situated them around the lower table and built-in couch. 

“Before we begin, why has the rebellion sought us out now of all times?” Cere asked, getting the meeting started with a question that the entire crew of the _Mantis_ had, but wasn’t overly important in the wide scheme of things. 

“We were told that your crew is proficient in… exploring ancient temples, tombs, and ruins,” Hera started, trying to make sure she was expressing what they knew, and not insult the _Mantis_ crew with her next statement. “We were also informed that your crew is good at liberating various artifacts from such places.”

“I guess you could describe what we do like that.”

“Sorry about that Greez,” Cal apologized, following Merrin out of the back of the ship. He looked out at the large group of people situated in the _Mantis,_ giving each visitor a once over. When his eyes landed on the Lasat leaning against the door frame of the boarding ramp, Cal couldn’t help but freeze. 

“You okay kid?” Greez asked, seeing the abrupt change in Cal’s demeanor.

Cal tore his eyes from the Lasat and awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that. Guess I’m not used to seeing so many people on the _Mantis_.” He explained away awkwardly, sitting on the stairs that separated the living space from the kitchenette, and turned to Cere. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?”

The _Ghost_ crew each gave Cal their respective look of suspicion at the man’s quick shift of demeanor and obvious change in subject. Some more subtle than others. Some less believing of his reason than others. 

“We were just about to go over the details,” Cere answered, ignoring the awkward tension that started to perforate the ship. “Captain Syndulla, if you would be so kind as to begin.”

“Right. Of course. The Empire has taken an interest in the planet Jaff. Most of its inhabitants have been evacuated off world to clear them from the areas that are being excavated by Empire forces. They’re looking for an ancient temple that supposedly holds some great weapon or power source,” Hera explained. Chopper projected a holomap over the snack table, and Hera pointed out their target planet in the vastness of space and expanded it. “We’re not sure what exactly they’re looking for, but our goal is to take it or destroy it before the Empire can get their hands on it. If we can’t destroy it, the plan is to move it off-world. We have a second team working to bring Jaff’s citizens back to their homes should the mission succeed.”

“Reminds me of our first mission on Zeffo,” Cal commented, his focus on the holoprojection of Jaff. “We were racing the Empire there as well.” 

“There are certainly similarities,” Cere agreed. 

“It’s that history of raiding tombs that brought us to your crew,” Kanan said. “However, this won’t be something to auction off to the highest bidder. Whatever they’re looking for needs to be taken care of so it won’t be exploited.”

“What are you implying?” Merrin asked icily. “That we pilfer from the dead for profit?”

That caused Cal to tense up and shoot a glare to the crew of the _Ghost_. Greez crossed both pairs of arms over his torso, and Cere seemed to connect the dots while the rest of her crew started raising their defenses. 

“We are not raiders for the sake of profit, but for the protection of civilizations long gone which are targeted by the Empire’s greed,” Cere explained tersely. “Everything we have taken has been scanned and recorded for our archives and stored in a safe place where they will be returned when it is safe to do so.”

“So you steal from planets for the sake of ‘protecting’ their history? Sounds like you’re thieves, deluding yourselves into thinking you’re doing the right thing while you build up a private collection,” Zeb criticized, taking a step forward from his position against the frame of the _Mantis’_ exit. What the _Mantis_ crew was describing was hitting close to home for the Lasat. He had seen his own culture’s heirlooms destroyed or kept as trophies by the higher ups of the Empire. 

“You make us out to be common grave robbers, looking only for the next payout,” Merrin said, straightening her posture and glaring at Zeb. “What the Empire would destroy due to lack of immediate use or stolen for their personal gain, we save and hide until it is safe to return them to their rightful place on their planet of origin. We respect the relics of old, and do what we can to keep them protected.”

“Everything we have taken has been cataloged and stored safely on an uninhabited planet,” Cere continued at a more restrained tone. “With the fall of the Republic and the collapse of the Jedi archives, we have been working to put that wealth of knowledge back together, in the hopes that when the Empire falls and peace returns to the galaxy, the information we’ve collected will be available for the good of the galaxy. As it was before the war.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Ezra piped in, curious. “This is an industry planet. Hardly a place to be looking for ancient relics.”

“We’re here for money, kid. Each of us has taken on jobs in Sinaea to replenish our low funds,” Greez said. “I’ve been assisting with some local ship maintenance crews, Cere works for one of the city’s radio stations, Merrin has been roughing it at a durasteel refinery, and Cal’s been jumping between work with me in ship repairs and the occasional contract for droid repairs and custom builds. We all take the work we can get to keep the _Mantis_ running, as well as the supplies needed for our next mission.” 

“We didn’t mean any disrespect,” Hera tried to calm the offended _Mantis_ crew. “Our information on your crew is limited. Assumptions were made based on what we had. Your crew has done a spectacular job at keeping your presence in the Empire’s databases to a minimum.” 

“We’ve had to rely on Cere’s skills for that, otherwise we’d never be able to breathe for more than a minute,” Cal contributed. “We’re a hot target given the number of Force users on this ship and our past experiences with the Inquisitors.”

“Wait a minute, Master Junda isn’t the only Jedi on your crew?”

“Ha! Get a load of this kid,” Greez laughed at Kanan’s question. “The only one here that can’t do any of that mumbo-jumbo is me. I’m just the pilot.”

“You’re more than just a pilot Greez, and you know that,” Cere chided. “And Kanan, I’m no longer a Jedi. Call me Cere.”

“So you three,” Ezra pointed at the remaining members of the _Mantis_. “Are Je- sorry. Force sensitive?”

Cal chuckled from his place on the stairs, while Merrin turned her attention to Ezra. 

“I am no Jedi, child,” Merrin announced. Her voice filled with pride and it showed in her smile and posture. “I am a Nightsister of Dathomir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing for a group this large is haaaarrd. I hope I was able to represent everyone and keep them in character. 
> 
> Since we don't really have a canon direction/purpose for the Mantis crew after JFO, I gave them one. Instead of rebuilding the Jedi Order, they're trying to put together a backup archive system to the one that got destroyed by Palpatine and friends. Think of it like, preemptive history textbooks for the future younglings of the restored Jedi Order.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, we die like men.

Silence fell heavy in the  _ Mantis _ , as the crew of the  _ Ghost  _ sat and processed the fact that they were in the presence of a living Nightsister. One of the witches of the cursed red planet where Maul had coerced Ezra to weeks prior. The planet they almost lost Kanan and Sabine to because of dark force magick and ghosts. 

“D-Dathomir?” Ezra choked out, taken aback by the admission and comparing the woman before him to his personal history with Dathomir and the angry spirits of dead witches. He shared a quick, strained look with Sabine.

“Yes. You know of it?” Merrin asked, arching a brow at the youngest of the  _ Ghost _ crew. Her posture still up-right and proud. “It is a planet steeped in the kind of history we work to preserve. Culture that has fallen to the test of time and... outside interference.” 

“Uh… I think I’ve heard about it in passing,” Ezra trailed off, looking from Sabine down to his hands awkwardly tangling together on his lap. 

Sabine shivered and looked past Merrin’s shoulder. She was doing her best to forget the experience of being possessed by one of the Nightsister’s dead siblings. The heavy, viscous feeling of the witch’s soul still crept into her thoughts while she was awake and within her dreams while she slept. Sabine forced that fear down.

Merrin watched Ezra and Sabine for a handful of tense seconds before nodding. “A shame.”

Kanan swallowed down his own experiences on Dathomir. The fear of losing Ezra as a part of Maul’s schemes. His padawan’s use of Nightsister magick in a ritual tied closely to the Dark Side. The sense of wrong as the ichor of the dead took his body from him. The fear of losing himself to demands of those long gone. It was nothing like letting the Force flow through him, and Kanan had never felt so violated in all his years. With a quick, silent breath, he pulled himself from the near past - he had to focus on the here and now.

“I thought the Nightsisters were wiped out during the Clone Wars,” Kanan whispered thickly, struggling to keep his uneasy feelings from surfacing. He could feel the unease coming off of Ezra and Sabine, and the growing suspicion from Merrin. 

More silence filled the ship, with most present not sure where they should look or how to move on from the obviously loaded topic they’d stumbled into. 

“I thought Lasats were extinct thanks to the Empire,” Cal responded just as quietly some time later, breaking the silence. His eyes were downcast, looking intently at the floor near Zeb’s feet, and not at the Lasat himself.

“What about it?” Zeb growled, looking down at the Jedi across the room.

“I guess it goes to show that genocides are not always as thorough as they claim," the red headed Jedi shrugged. "The same can be said about the Jedi."

“My sisters were largely destroyed by the droids of the Separatists, that is true,” Merrin continued, interrupting the budding tension between Cal and Zeb. She made eye contact with each member of the  _ Ghost _ before moving on. “But that is not why you are here.”

“I’m sorry. We seem to keep finding sensitive subjects to your crew,” Hera said, trying to calm the situation. 

“Our crew has been through a lot during our time together,” Cere admitted. “We’ve become a very close-knit family, and most of our interactions with the galaxy at large have been based around lies or violence. Sometimes both. Teamwork can be something we work on if we accept your job proposition.

“In the meantime, we’ll spend the evening to ourselves and discuss your offer privately. Until then, how about we enjoy Greez’s cooking, and properly introduce ourselves. It would do us well to have allies in the future, regardless of whether we agree to help you this time or not.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Greez nodded. “Now eat up. I slaved over a hot stove and oven for you people, so I expect all of this to be gone before we’re done tonight.”

Cal chuckled and got up from his place on the stairs. He grabbed two plates, put a mix of the snacks and treats Greez had put together, and passed one plate to Merrin with a wink. BD-1 beeped at the young Jedi as he sat back down, and Cal let the small droid scan his food. 

“Thank you Cal,” Merrin smiled, watching him and BD-1 interact.

He looked up from his droid, and returned her smile. 

BD-1 shifted from one foot to another, and tilted its head up to his human.  _ Bwoop beeee. _

ID9-J clicked suggestively and circled Cal’s head, finding enjoyment in teasing him.

“Shush, the both of you.” 

At the droids’ antics, the hesitation in the  _ Ghost _ crew broke, and Ezra and Zeb descended on the food. They stacked their plates with a bit of everything, not afraid to try anything their hosting Latero and his crew were offering. It couldn't be worse than the ration sticks that they’ve had to eat during slow periods between missions and paydays. 

“These are amazing!” Ezra exclaimed, popping a second pastry filled with sweet fruit and syrup. “Sabine, you have to try one!” He handed her the last pastry on his plate before going for more.

Sabine took a hesitant bite, and found the burst of flavour to hold up to Ezra’s claims. She took a plate and put various choice foods onto it. 

“Thank you for the food,” Hera said as she put a plate together for herself and Kanan. They’d share the food, and let the rest enjoy the treats at the table. There wasn’t a lot of time recently for them to share anything, so she’d take this small opportunity. Kanan seemed to pick up on it, and moved his leg so it was pressed up against hers. 

“It’s the respectable thing to do when there are guests, but I’m glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Cere put her own plate together while listening to the  _ Ghost  _ crew gush over the food. She was grateful they had Greez. Good food had proven time and time again to help ease relations between the  _ Mantis _ and its friends and allies - and sometimes even between crew members after a job went poorly. Good food was helping smooth the negotiations now. 

Everyone slowed their eating after the initial rush, and Greez’s complaint about leftovers was quickly forgotten. The food was a huge hit for both his own crew and their guests. Small talk was exchanged within both crews, and when things started to slow down, Kanan leaned forward, trusting Hera to keep the plate from slipping from its place balancing between their legs. 

“I feel proper introductions are in order, now that we’ve shared a meal. I’ll start, and we can work our way around the room,” he said. “My name is Kanan. I’m a Jedi Knight that survived the purge when the clones turned on us. I spent a while as a bounty hunter before I met Hera and Chopper, and joined the rebellion.”

“Hera Syndulla. I’ve been fighting the Empire for years. You could say that rebelling against oppressive regimes is a family trait, as my father fought the Separatists when I was still young on Ryloth. I’m commander of Phoenix Squadron’s fighter pilots.”

“I’m Sabine Wren. Demolitions expert for the  _ Ghost _ and resident artist,” Sabine offered, holding up her helmet and gesturing to her decorated armor. 

“Ezra, Ezra Bridger. I’m Kanan’s padawan. The Empire took over my home planet, Lothal, arrested and killed my parents for sending out broadcasts that criticized the Empire and encouraged resistance. I guess rebelling is a family trait for me as well.”

“Just call me Zeb. No need for the full name. I lost my people and planet to the Empire, so I’m doing what I can to even the score.”

_ Bwoop pzzzt twiii brrrp. Bwrrr boop bzzzztp. _

“I am sorry, but I do not understand droids very well,” Merrin voiced, not sure if she understood the droid’s binary properly. It sounded a bit outlandish.

“He said ‘Hera rescued and fixed me up. I’ve been protecting the _Ghost_ ever since.’” Ezra offered, exasperated at the pomp of Chopper’s introduction. “He goes by Chopper, by the way.” 

“He’s got a lot of attitude. You guys must never get bored,” Cal joked from across the living space between his own droids. 

“You have no idea.”

“Well, to continue the introductions, I’m Cal Kestis. I am also a Jedi Knight, and I spent the first few years of Empire rule on Bracca, working for the Scrapper’s Guild before I was found by Inquisitors. Luckily, Cere and Greez were in the area, and kept me from being killed. Been here since,” Cal explained, finishing with a grand sweep of his arm to reference the  _ Mantis _ . “And this is BD-1 and ID9-J. You could say BD and I found each other at the beginning of our travels, and 9-J is a refurbished seeker droid that used to be with the Empire’s forces.”

“We’ve had problems with an Inquisitor that uses droids like that.”

“There might be a connection… but 9-J is with us now. New drives, memory banks, and everything.”

_ With us now _ . The seeker droid parroted and landed on Cal’s shoulder. 

“Yeah you are,” Cal agreed, giving the seeker droid a pat. 

“I feel I have done enough for introductions at this time. You may call me Merrin.”

“It sounds like you know a fair bit about me as well,” Cere continued.

Greez rounded out the introductions. “Name’s Greez Dritus. The  _ Mantis _ is my ship, and I’m her pilot, but you’re gonna want to go through Cere if you’re hoping to do anything. She’s the boss here.

“Oh, and I am not doing the dishes. I hope you know that,” Greez finished, turning to Cal as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s your turn for dish duty Cal.”

“Don’t worry Greez, I’ll make sure everything’s clean and put back.”

“Good. So who’s got the coordinates to Jaff? I don’t know if we’re going yet, but I’d like to know where it is regardless.”

“I can help you with that,” Hera answered, getting up from her place next to Kanan. 

The two pilots split from the group and headed towards the holotable near the cockpit. 

“So… did you two know each other before this?” Ezra asked, indicating Kanan and Cal. “You both look to be around the same age.”

“Uh,” Cal started eloquently. 

“Ezra!” Kanan scolded. 

“What? It’s a valid question!”

“You said you had changed your name to Kanan after the Republic fell. I know you mentioned it earlier when we were in the alley, but to be honest, I had my attention on Sabine at the time.”

“My birth name was Caleb Dume. I was Master Depa Billaba’s padawan, and I fought with her during the Clone Wars. I was,” Kanan paused, counting backward in his head. “I was fourteen when everything went to shit.”

“Dume,” Cal trailed off, digging through his memories of his time at the Jedi Temple.

“I remember you,” Cere cut in, a smirk on her face. “The youngling with all the questions, and none of the patience to reflect on the answers. We never met, but you were talked about every so often within the temple.”

“I think I was in a different creche. But I do remember seeing you in the temple a few times with another human and a…”

“Twi’lek. Yeah,” Kanan confirmed. “Sammo and Tai. I was one of the younger ones in my creche.”

“We must have just missed each other then,” Cal murmured. “I was selected to be a padawan early due to some… extenuating circumstances. I wasn’t even ten when I was put through the Initiate Trials.”

“You two should trade stories when you get the chance. Even if we don’t go with you for this mission, I see no harm in keeping contact,” said Cere. “But it is getting late, and Cal, don’t forget you have dish duty tonight.”

Cal groaned as he stood up and stretched his back. There was a faint pop, and he shook his shoulders out before collecting the trays and plates. With all the dishes in his arms, he turned back to Kanan and grinned. “Next time then.”

Hera and Greez came back soon after, talking logistics about running an Imperial planetary blockade.

“I’m telling you, the  _ Mantis _ isn’t built for combat, but we can be surprisingly stealthy if needed.”

“And the  _ Ghost _ has earned her name dozens of times over, there’s no need for us split up unless it’s a part of the plan.”

“Sounds like you two are already planning for this mission,” Cere smirked. “Even though we haven’t discussed the job as a group and made our decision yet.”

“There’s no harm in speculating Cere,” Greez returned the smirk. “Besides, Hera here thinks she can out maneuver us in stealth.”

“It’s good to hear that you’ve made a friend Greez.”

“I’m just grateful I have another pilot to talk to. Cal’s good for discussions on maintenance, and Merrin’s a great pilot, but it’s not…”

“It is not something I can talk about in length,” Merrin finished. “You are a great teacher Greez, but I can not match your passion for flying.”

“Alright everyone,” Hera said, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “I think we’ve imposed on the  _ Mantis _ enough for one day. Let’s head back to the  _ Ghost _ and rest up. We’ll be leaving tomorrow one way or another.”

Chopper gave a final beep to BD-1 and ID9-J before rolling after Hera as she left the  _ Mantis _ . 

Sabine stood up and tucked her helmet under her arm. “Thanks for having us, and for giving us a chance.” She nodded to the  _ Mantis _ crew before heading out. 

Ezra and Kanan followed next, thanking the crew for having them and for the food. 

Zeb was the last one out. He gave his own, brusque thanks and goodbye before giving Cal’s back a final look of wariness. The young man was finishing his job with the dishes, but Zeb could tell something was up with the kid. He seemed to do everything he could in the meeting to keep from looking at him, and that had Zeb preparing himself for the potential fallout of unspoken biases. 

As the Lasat left, the door slid closed behind him. The  _ Mantis  _ started to put their living space back together and returned the chairs around their small dining table. With the ship back into a semblance of usual, they headed into front half of the ship and sat around the holotable. 

“Greez, can you pull up the holomap for Jaff. I’d like for us to go over the job again before we start debating over whether or not to trust our guests,” Cere requested, settling into her seat. 

Greez turned on the holomap, and the room filled with a cool glow of the projects celestial bodies. “Jaff is located in the Dustig Sector of the Mid Rim territories, over here. It’d take us about a day to reach the planet from here, and to minimize our chances of raising Imperial alarm, I’d recommend taking the hyperspace route that requires three jumps to get there.” 

“We’ve had to do worse in the past,” Cal commented, observing the star map. “It’s near Malastare... that system sounds familiar."

“Malastare was a part of the Republic during the Clone Wars. It was home to a heavily used fuel source that powered our ships,” Cere mentioned, briefing the crew. “I don’t remember Jaff being a part of the war, but its neighboring systems have some history. We might be able to find some supplies in old Clone War bases if all else fails.” 

“I am not sure if I trust the people of the  _ Ghost _ ,” Merrin said, looking past the holomap in the direction of the visiting ship. “I sensed remains of Nightsister magick on them. They did not tell us the truth about their knowledge of Dathomir, and it makes me worried about what else they might not be telling us.”

“I can’t sense magick, but their Force presence wasn’t like the Inquisitors. I didn’t sense any mal intent when they were here,” Cal added. 

“I feel their job offer is sincere, but what worries me is the lack of information they have about the job. We don’t know what we’d be searching for, which makes it difficult to plan for how we’d handle it if we find it.” 

“Hera told me there are three suspected places this mystery weapon or whatever is,” Greez cut in, and highlighted the three excavation sites. “We’d be looking for the Temple of… Shieae-something. They don’t know where it is, but fortunately, they’ve narrowed it down to three potential excavation sites, we don’t have to comb through the entire planetary operation.”

“That certainly helps,” Cere murmured to herself in thought. The excavation sites were spread out across the planet, but the three Greez highlighted were far apart from each other. Twin temples located near each of Jaff’s poles, and one along the equator. “But we’d have to run a lot of reconnaissance, which increases our risk of being spotted by the Empire.” 

“What do you think Cal? You are the one who would be doing the most work in tracking down this item, given our limited resources going in and your abilities,” Merrin turned to Cal, who was studying the map intently. 

“I’d say we try either the northern or southern site first. That way, we’d have more time to make a run for it if we have to. The other two major excavation sites would be at least an hour or two flight and they’d need the time to deploy from Jaff’s orbit to get us.” 

“That’s as doable a plan as any at this point,” Greez said. “All in favor of teaming up with the  _ Ghost _ for a bit of official rebelling?”

“I still do not trust them. If we do this mission, I want us to return to Dathomir afterwards. I am worried about what they stumbled into that involved magick.”

“I’m in,” Cal agreed. 

“You sure? You seemed real uncomfortable around that Lasat they have in their crew,” Greez asked, a mix of good-natured ribbing and concern. 

“I can work through it. He just brings back memories of Master Tapal.”

Merrin placed her hand on his shoulder. “We do not have to take this job if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that. I thought I’d never see a Lasat again, and I guess I just wasn’t prepared,” Cal answered, placing his own hand over hers. “I miss him.”

“Cal, missing your master does not make you weak. Remember the good times, and learn from the bad. Jaro Tapal’s death is something you’ll carry with you for the rest of your life, but it doesn’t control you,” Cere reassured. 

“Yeah.”

A few minutes of silence passed, and Greez spoke up. “So it sounds like we’re going to Jaff.”

“Guess we are. Get some rest everyone. We’ll wrap up our jobs tomorrow, get the necessary supplies, and head out before the sun sets.”


End file.
